


Cherepakha

by Okaeri_Kairi



Series: Haven [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Drama, Family, Fluff, M/M, Mafia AU, Romance, Russian Mafia, Sexual Content, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 00:37:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10605657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okaeri_Kairi/pseuds/Okaeri_Kairi
Summary: Some keepsakes are too precious to throw away, even when they've become threadbare with age.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sorei_yu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorei_yu/gifts).



> This is a side-story set about two years before the events of [_Separation Anxiety_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8952229/chapters/20489131) and references characters and events from the main story.

The box had no label or markings to distinguish it from the others. It was a simple cardboard box, placed high up on the shelf in Yuuri’s closet. He stared up at it, thinking hard; there was something oddly familiar about it, though he couldn't place it.

"Mom, what's in this one?" he asked, turning to look at his mother. Katerina made a petulant sound and grudgingly folded one of his shirts as she sat on his bed.

"Why should I know?" she asked irritably as she tossed the shirt aside and reached for another one. "It’s not like you’ve let me clean your room at all for years.”

“Mama, we aren’t having this fight again,” Yuuri said, sighing. “I was too old to have my mother clean my room,” he lied, turning away from her. He didn’t want her to see that it was a topic that hurt him to think about.

“Hmph, and what’s your excuse now, Yuratchka? Too old to live with your poor, lonely, old mother?”

Yuuri groaned, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Mom, please. Just tell me what’s in the box.”

“I told you I don’t know,” she muttered moodily, and he heard her toss some more clothes into his suitcase. Katerina had been in a foul mood ever since she heard that Yuuri and Viktor were planning to move out of her house. The excuse they’d given her was that the house held too many memories of Mikhail, but in truth, they’d had a few close calls in the last few months, now that Katya only had her sons for company. The last thing they wanted was for Katerina Nikiforova to discover her boys were secretly seeing each other under her own roof; after the death of her husband, she was liable to murder someone at the slightest provocation.

“I’d prefer it wasn’t us,” Viktor had muttered. He’d meant it as a joke, but Yuuri really didn’t mind if she did kill them. It had only been a few months since he’d tried to commit suicide, and Yuuri knew that Viktor still woke up crying some nights because of it. He could hear him from his room.

If Yuuri couldn’t die just yet, he at least wanted to spare Vitya some of the pain his botched attempt had caused.

“How did I get this up here?” he asked himself as he frowned up at the box again. He was too short to reach it on foot, even at 21, so he couldn’t imagine how he’d done it in his youth.

“Need some help, Yuratchka?”

The voice was low and sultry, and far, _far_ too sensuous to be appropriate in front of their mother.

“Ah, Vitya. Come to be useful, for once?” Yuuri said sternly as he purposefully stepped back. He felt his heel press down on Viktor’s toes and he heard the hitch of his brother’s breath as Yuuri let his weight fall back on them.

 _Control yourself, you desperate puppy,_ he thought with satisfaction. Vitya seemed to get the message because he backed away slightly and cleared his throat.

“That’s mean, Yuuri,” he pouted, looking quite a lot like his mother as he did. Yuuri chuckled.

“But true.” He pointed up at the box. “Can you reach that?”

“Uh huh, no problem,” Vitya said, giving him a small wink. Yuuri had to resist elbowing him in the ribs. He stepped aside and Viktor easily pulled the box from the shelf, looking rather smug about it.

“Vitya, quit looking like you just won a prize,” Katya said, obviously annoyed. “You only got a box, stop acting so stupid.”

“Sorry mom,” Vitya said, chastised. He carried the box to the bed, looking significantly put down. Yuuri rolled his eyes.

“There there,” he said drily, patting Viktor’s shoulder. He reached for the box and pulled it open.

 _“Oh,”_ he said, unsure what to feel. The box was full of old toys and books, the things he’d loved the most growing up. There was a set of old finger puppets Katya had helped him make when he was about six or seven, several coloring books, and a collection of his favorite fairy tales. There was a book of Japanese folklore that Mikhail had gotten him on a trip to Tokyo, to help him practice his native language, and a few stuffed animals amongst his toy cars and trains. But his eye immediately went to one toy in particular, a worn little stuffed turtle with a silly black top hat.

 _“Kame-san,”_ he said without thinking, pulling it out of the box and holding it gingerly in his hands. It was very old, more gray than green now, and it seemed to have lost most of its stuffing over the years. A sudden wave of emotions threatened to bring Yuuri to tears; the turtle had been his constant companion, up until the year he’d turned twelve. That was the year he was taken under Nikita’s wing, the year he became dirty and twisted. He’d packed away all his favorite things and hidden them, afraid to taint the precious gifts from his family.

“Is that-?!”

Viktor reached as if to pull the turtle from Yuuri’s hands, but he managed to stop himself at the last second. Yuuri didn’t know if he did it out of consideration for his feelings or perhaps just because it was a sudden movement and Viktor was afraid to startle him.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” he said instead, voice awed. Yuuri offered it to him.

“You gave it to me,” he said simply, trying not to show how much he felt like crying. Vitya took it from him gently, turning the turtle over in his hands lovingly.

“ _Mama_ , look!” he said. Katerina paused in her folding and stared at the toy.

“Is that... _is that Mister Cherepashka?!”_ she asked, startled. Unlike Viktor, she had no reservations. She snatched the doll from him in seconds. “I can’t believe this still exists,” she said, patting its little face fondly. “Do you remember, Vitya?”

 _“Of course_ I remember,” he said impatiently. “How could I forget Mister Turtle?!”

Katerina chuckled. “Oh you loved this toy, I think you loved it more than you loved me,” she grinned. “You couldn’t sleep without him.”

“I was little,” Viktor said, looking slightly embarrassed. Yuuri made a mental reminder to tease him about it later.

 _“Mister Cherepashka?_ Really?” he asked, unable to keep an amused grin off his face.

“Mom named him,” Viktor said, his cheeks slightly red.

“I was very happy when you started saying the name,” Katya said. “It made all the other mothers feel like they had stupid children in comparison,” she sniggered. “It was so much fun, even if you did have a bit of trouble pronouncing it.”

“Oh _did_ he?” Yuuri asked, surreptitiously touching Viktor’s hip as he leaned in. Vitya went completely rigid, his face flushed, and Yuuri pretended nothing at all had happened.

“He did,” she said cheerfully. “' _Mistel Chelipaksha,’_ he used to say. Sometimes he’d just yell it out because he _could_. I was afraid my boss at the grocery store would fire me because he was so obnoxious about it, but thankfully, everyone loved you, you spoiled little brat,” she said.

“Not true,” he mumbled.

“You wish, Vitenka.”

Yuuri laughed, and Katerina turned her attention to him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“And you, my little _pryanichek_ , were just as bad. From the moment Viktor gave this to you, you wouldn’t put it down for anything. What was it you used to call it?”

Yuuri could feel his ears growing warm.

 _“Kame-san,”_ he said stiffly.

“Yes, that’s the name,” she said, snapping her fingers. “You were so cute, carrying it around everywhere, talking to it like it could hear you. When Viktor left, you cried a lot while snuggling with this. I found you in his room several times, sleeping on his bed with tears on your cheeks...”

Her voice faded away, and all three of them fell into a strained, painful silence. Yuuri averted his eyes, not wanting to see the guilt in Viktor’s expression or the sadness in his mother’s.

“I’m sorry.”

The words were fragile, vulnerable, and though the voice was clearly Katerina’s, Yuuri could hardly believe their mother could make a sound so heartrendingly sad.

 _“M-Mama?”_ he and Viktor asked in unison, both completely perplexed as their mother stared down into her lap, her hands clutching Mister Turtle tightly. To their horror, several tears clung to her silver eyelashes, dripping down onto her hands.

Katerina Nikiforova _never_ cried, not in earnest. She hadn’t even cried at Mikhail’s funeral, devastated though they knew she’d been.

“Mom, what’s wrong?!” Viktor asked desperately, kneeling in front of her worriedly. Katya gave a half-laugh, though Yuuri thought it sounded more like a choked sob.

“Idiot, you’re supposed to pretend you don’t notice when a girl cries,” she scolded, but a second later she merely pressed the stuffed animal to her face and wailed.

“Okay, first, that’s bullshit, and second of all, you’re scaring the shit out of me, Mom,” Viktor said, panicking slightly. “Do you need to go to the doctor?!”

To no one’s surprise but Vitya’s, she smacked him over the head.

_“Ow!”_

“Of course I don’t need to go to the doctor!” she said, eyes glinting fiercely. “It’s just... I was a terrible mother, allowing Misha to send you away, raising you two apart... And now... Now God is punishing me; first he took Misha, and now... now you two are all I have left, and you’re leaving me too...”

Yuuri and Viktor glanced guiltily at each other.

“Mom, you were a great mother,” Yuuri said as kindly as he could, sitting next to his mother and taking her hand. “You always tried to be there for us, and you even gave up your life in the _bratva_ to raise us properly. We all know how much you missed that. So you made a mistake or two... That’s okay.” He paused, his thoughts turning to Nikita for a moment before he shook them away. “No parent is perfect, _mama._ You did your best.”

“Yuratchka is right, Mom,” Viktor said, wiping her cheeks with his thumb. “Everyone makes mistakes. You and Father as much as anyone, but that doesn't mean we don't know and appreciate all the sacrifices and love you gave us. Besides, you have two incredibly handsome and dangerous sons to show off, don’t you? I thought you were proud of us.”

“Of course I’m proud,” she sniffled. “The Korotkin heir is half-bald and the Lagransky boy is an utter idiot; even of they weren’t completely disgraceful, you’d still outshine them all. But...”

“Hey, we’re the sons of the Silver Devil,” he grinned. “We wouldn’t trade you for any other mother in the world, right Yuuri?”

Yuuri flinched slightly. I _wouldn’t want another mother, but I wish I could trade places with a better son for you, Mom..._

“Mm,” he said, fighting the urge to pull his hand away.

“See? We’re not leaving you,” Viktor insisted. “We’re just... grown up now, and losing Father was hard for us. We have a lot of work to do, now that we’re the _pakhan_ and _sovietnik_ of the Nikiforov _bratva,_ so we can't afford to focus on grieving. That's the sort of life you prepared us for, isn't it? It’s just... easier... for us to start fresh.” he lied.

Katerina nodded, her icy blue eyes sad and far away.

“I know,” she said quietly. “I know... It’s time to let go...” She picked up the turtle, squeezing it tightly. “Sometimes, I wonder where my precious little boys went,” she chuckled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “But, well, I suppose you had to outgrow this place sometime... Just like you outgrew Mister Cherepashka.”

 _“Mama...”_ Yuuri began, unsure what to say.

Katerina shook her head and pressed the toy into Yuuri’s hands. “Take him with you,” she said. “So you don’t forget me.”

“Mother, don’t be so dramatic,” Viktor said, scoffing. “We’re moving less than an hour away. We’ll still be seeing you all the time.”

“But it’s not the same,” she said childishly, and both Viktor and Yuuri chuckled.

“We love you, Mom. Thanks for raising us for so long,” Vitya said warmly. Yuuri wrapped his arm around Katya’s shoulder and squeezed it gently, trying to show that he felt the same, even if he couldn’t say the words aloud.

* * *

“Well, this is it,” Viktor said as he set down the last box in the small living room. Their new apartment was on the other side of St. Petersburg, a bit closer to the city center. Compared to the huge, beautiful house they’d grown up in, it was small and simple, though it was still fairly luxurious by civilian standards. It was the perfect size for the two of them, even with Makkachin added on.

“It doesn’t really feel like home,” Yuuri noted, sitting on one of the kitchen chairs with the poodle resting at his feet.

“No, not yet,” Vitya agreed, looking around thoughtfully. “It’ll probably feel better once we’ve finished unpacking.”

Yuuri nodded silently.

“Are you alright, Yuuri?” he asked, looking worried. “You’ve been awfully quiet today...”

For a moment, Yuuri considered lying. He knew that Vitya would sense the lie right away, though he never pried when he realized Yuuri wanted some privacy. But as those blue, familiar eyes stared at him, he found he was tired of hiding.

“I don’t know,” he finally said, looking away. “It feels... wrong, leaving Mom alone...”

Viktor sighed.

“I know. It was selfish of me, asking to move out. I know it's been a few months already, but it's still hard on her.”

“It’s been less than a year,” Yuuri said. “She won’t ever admit it, but she’s lonely without Father.”

“Yeah...”

“We’re terrible sons, Vitya.”

“I know.”

“But...” He turned to face Vitya again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I guess it’s not _so_ bad, if it means having you all to myself.”

As he expected, Viktor went beet red and covered his face with his hands.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Don’t say stuff like that, Yuuri!”

“Heh, you’re like a little kid,” Yuuri teased, grinning mischievously. “What was it Mom said you called _Kame-san? Mistel Chelipaksha?”_

“ _Ugh,_ no, stop,” Vitya begged, still covering his face in embarrassment.

“I’m _never_ letting this go,” Yuuri laughed. “Your expression is priceless, Vitya.”

Viktor made a strangled noise.

“ _Please,_ Yuuri, quit it,” he said again, brushing the hair from his face awkwardly. Yuuri stood up, striding over to Viktor and cornering him against the wall.

“Begging only makes me want to tease you more,” he said softly, pulling his glasses off.

He thought he could see the exact moment when Vitya’s mind went blank. It was satisfying beyond belief, being able to kiss him feverishly in the living room, ripping each others’ clothes off without thinking, crashing and laughing out loud as they tripped over the moving boxes on the way to the bedroom.

 _Their_ bedroom.

Yuuri wasn’t sure he’d ever liked the sound of something more, or at least, not until Viktor proved he’d been holding back quite a bit in their mother’s home.

“I had no idea you could make a noise like that,” Yuuri muttered against Vitya’s throat as another desperate moan escaped his lips.

“Sorry,” Viktor managed to say, his voice a complete mess as Yuuri’s hands ran down his thighs.

“Why are you apologizing, Vitya?” Yuuri asked, tracing a line up to his earlobe with his tongue. “I like hearing you like this,” he breathed into his ear, wrapping his fingers around Viktor’s erection.

_“Ngh, ah, Yura-! N-no! No more teasing, just...!”_

“Is that really the best you can do?” Yuuri clicked his tongue impatiently. He bit Viktor’s ear hard, his hand still working at him mercilessly, pulling away every time Vitya seemed too close to release.

 _“God, please, please, Yuuri!! Fuck me, just fuck me, PLEASE!!_ ” he cried desperately, senselessly, and Yuuri felt his whole body shiver with pleasure at the sound.

“From now on, the only one who gets to silence you is _me_ ,” he said, voice low and dangerous, full of threat and desire all at once. He didn’t let Viktor answer, their lips meeting in a heavy, breathless kiss, Vitya moaning Yuuri’s name against the inside of his mouth.

* * *

Neither of them had any idea how long it was before they were satisfied; all their clocks were still packed away. At some point in the evening, they fell asleep in each others’ arms, and it was only the sound of Makkachin whining outside the door to be fed that woke them.

“I’ll do it,” Viktor yawned.

“Kay,” Yuuri agreed sleepily. He closed his eyes and something soft was pressed to his face.

“In case you miss me,” Vitya teased, leaning in to kiss Yuuri’s forehead.

Yuuri knew it was Mister Turtle without looking. It smelled familiar, even after all those years.

 _“Ha,”_ he replied sarcastically, but once Viktor had gone into the kitchen, he stopped to examine the little toy. It really was threadbare; at some point his mother must have patched it, because there were several mismatching areas on its body. The little felt hat was drooping, the face a little lopsided.

But it was still undoubtedly Mister Turtle, the friend who had comforted him whenever he was sad or lonely, who had listened to all his worries and complaints. Yuuri was suddenly thankful he'd found it, even though it dredged up some painful memories. He hugged the toy close.

 _“Thank you for being there for me while he was gone,”_ he whispered. _"I'm sorry I ever hid you away."_ He placed it gently on the bedside table after a moment, and Mister Turtle stared back at him, smiling knowingly.

 _Don't worry,_ it seemed to say. _That’s why I’m here._

Yuuri blinked, wondering how many secrets and feelings Mister Turtle had kept for him over the years, even after it’d been stored away. He wondered how many of Vitya's childhood fears it had kept at bay, how many tears it had witnessed, and how many smiles it had brought.

A warm sense of gratefulness and nostalgia filled him from within.

“Hey... Vitya?” he called.

“Yes?” Viktor’s voice echoed from the kitchen.

“Make sure to call Mom while you’re out there,” he said. “She’s probably worried that we’ve died on our own.”

He heard Viktor chuckle.

“Right. I’ll call her in a minute.”

Yuuri fell asleep soon after. He dreamt that he was a turtle, crying inside his shell, and it was only when two gentle pairs of hands reached out to him that he managed to build up the courage to come out.

**Author's Note:**

> Why is there smut in the middle of this fluffy piece? *shrugs* These idiots seriously write themselves.
> 
> Thanks as always for reading! I have one more one-shot for this series in the works before I work on chapter 16, so I hope you'll look forward to that. Comments/kudos/bookmarks are always appreciated, I love hearing from you!


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